


Whiskey Woes

by annerly



Series: Whiskey Woes [1]
Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-08-27 08:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16698823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annerly/pseuds/annerly
Summary: Summoning Whiskey gave them woes beyond human comprehension.They were secretly glad that they withheld the name calling.  Because Whiskey wasn’t a bastard.  No.No, no.No.Whiskey was a fucking dumbass.Thanks to @hrhowling on Tumblr for the headcanons about Whiskey.  I grabbed them and ran off (with consent of course).





	1. Basic Contract - First Sight

Summoning Whiskey gave them woes beyond human comprehension.

Originally when they saw his silhouette in the summoning chamber, their heart almost went into cardiac arrest.

Ah, please not the bastard. Please, not the bastard. Please don’t be the-… and goddammit it’s the bastard.

“Hello, I am Vita. Aqua Vita. Perhaps you would be more familiar with the name Whiskey.”

Whiskey stood at the center of the summoning circle, freshly summoned from the onions and crystals that they had so dearly saved up.

They had heard rumors before of the notorious Whiskey. His calm demeanor and what atrocities laid in his bloody past. No one had ever summoned a Whiskey before. At least no one in the small town of Gloriville that was.

But they should greet him nevertheless. After all, he was their food soul now. And they were bonded by a contract.

“Hello, Whiskey.” They gave him a polite smile.

He gave a gentle one in return alongside a humble bow. “I look forward to being in your service.”

“You appear… tense, Master Attendant,” he mused along their way back to the store. “Am I making you uncomfortable, perhaps?”

They looked at him wearily. That calm, gentle smile was an iconic look on his face.

They originally did not wish to get a food soul. A small store such as theirs did not require the extra assistance that a food soul would provide. Furthermore, they never ventured anywhere that would require a food soul’s protection from a fallen angel.

They were secretly hoping for a common soul, something like a Pancake or a Pudding would have been nice. Yet the food soul that they had summoned to help out in the restaurant turned out to be an ultra-rare soul. A type of soul that was not meant for any type of restaurant work.

And of all the ultra-rare type of food souls they could have summoned, they ended up with the incarnation of evil that was Whiskey.

“…I had originally summoned for some additional help at my store.” They had just summoned Whiskey, the time to call him a bastard was too soon. A grace period of a week should be allotted before name-calling was to begin. “It’s probably a waste of your talents to have you simply help me out with cooking and waiting on customers.”

Whiskey let out a soft chuckle. If the food soul knew of his master attendant’s inner thoughts, it did not bother him at all.

“I will be of help to you in whatever way I can, Master Attendant. Please guide me.”

And boy did they really have to guide Whiskey.

They were secretly glad that they withheld the name calling. 

With his past history of alchemy and researching complex notions and concepts, they originally thought that Whiskey had some sort of common sense to him.

Alas, how wrong they were.

Because Whiskey wasn’t a bastard. No.

No, no.

Whiskey was a fucking dumbass.


	2. Basic Contract - Restaurant Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you have an UR soul to manage your restaurant....

“WHISKEY, WHAT HAPPENED?!”  
“My apologies, Master Attendant.”

They had walked into their store to find customers splayed over their chairs completely void of consciousness.  
Their first thought was murder.  
Their food soul murdered all of their customers. They were felons now. Life was over.

But under closer observation, they noted that there was no blood to be seen anywhere. Only turned over bowls of food and utensils on the floor-- some of which were still in the hands of the guests.  
Empty bottles of alcohol stood on the counter next to the pot of rice congee which Whiskey was tasked to serve.

They pieced it together quite quickly.  
“Did… did you-”  
“I believed that it was an appropriate addition,” Whiskey answered nonchalantly. “Humans tend to gravitate towards the ingestion of alcohol when they wish to relieve themselves of their troubles. Having to serve congee which is a dish meant for the betterment of human health, mixing the two into one would be the most efficient method of obtaining both benefits.”

Inhale. Exhale slowly. Calm down. They clasped their head in their open palms.  
“...Whiskey....”  
“Yes, Master Attendant?” He had that stupid smile on his face again. They weren’t sure if he was toying around with them or if he was actually serious.  
They had to remind themself to breathe.   
Breathe in, and breathe out.   
This was a learning experience.   
A learning experience. After all, it was his first time cooking anything by himself. They should have known better than to leave him alone for the first time.  
“Whiskey… You don’t… put alcohol in congee.”  
Whiskey stared at the rows of emptied alcohol on the counter.   
“I see.” His head tilted slightly in a curious manner as he looked at the pot of congee in front of him. He then looked up to meet their gaze with that iconic smile on his face. “Thank you for telling me that, Master Attendant. I will make note of that for next time.”

 

The next day, when they decided to alleviate Whiskey from cooking duties and sent him to wait on the guests instead.  
It went well despite their initial concerns. Whiskey was quite polite to guests and was well received. The usual dine and dashers quietly paid their bills for once and never made a peep since Whiskey’s arrival.  
But the peace and smoothness was broken. A sudden shatter was heard and a loud thump along the wooden floors.  
Whiskey, alongside a platter of broken plates and glass, laid still on the ground. His trench coat pooled out around him as he laid still.  
“WHISKEYYYY!!!”  
They dropped the ladle into the pot and hurried over to the food soul. His pale skin was flushed and warm to the touch.  
“...heh… it seems that I too… am prone to exhaustion...”  
He shut his eyes.  
“NO, WHISKEY, DON’T DIE. WHISKEY, DON’T DIEEEEE!!!!” 

After the panic had settled down, they were able to finally situate Whiskey in his room.  
They had an inkling from the start about his stamina and ability to work for an extended period. They let out a deep sigh before looking over to a Whiskey who looked surprisingly apologetic.  
Perhaps it was their own delusion. Whiskey’s dumbass smile was still there. They’re reading into it too much.  
Pulling out a vial of blue refresh medication, they held it up to Whiskey in a gesture to drink.  
“...You did not have to go to such lengths for me… but I do appreciate it…”  
He downed the vial in one swig.  
“Thank you, I feel much better now.”  
They let out a deep sigh. He was back to smiling again and seemed completely calm despite the panic that he had sent them into. “What am I supposed to do with you…?”


	3. Basic Contract - Leveling Potions, Seasonings, and Snakes

“Eat this.”  
They held up a large mug of a bright blue liquid and a plate of glowing green ovals.  
Whiskey, situated quite comfortably at the desk in his room, looked up in surprise at his attendant’s arrival.

They had kept him at a level one for a good while, only having him help out at the restaurant occasionally.  
Whiskey smiled and took the mug from his attendant’s hands; he drank it in a single motion.  
“Fufufufu… how interesting…” The air around him glowed with a soft light of red, blue and yellow.  
“I’m slightly terrified,” his master attendant commented to themselves. They held out the plate of green, glowing ovals. “Here are some green ovals too.”  
Whiskey chuckled. “I believe that they are called ‘seasonings’, but you have my gratitude for giving them to me.”

Those too, he popped into his mouth.  
Without warning, a pair of looming black snakes emerged from a magic circle of red light, twisting and turning outwards-- shattering a chair into mere splinters.

Something else shattered as well. The plate that his attendant was holding. It had dropped from their frozen hands as a result of the shock that had overcome them from the appearance of two huge snakes appearing in their house and destroying their furniture.  
And they too, took a fall to the floor, only to be caught in the arms of a very amused food soul.  
“Oh, did I startle you, Master Attendant?”  
The bastard.

The look from his attendant was sufficient to answer his question. Whiskey helped them up to their feet.  
“I apologize for alarming you. I had only meant to see the difference in my skills after taking those seasonings.”

They let out a sigh, evidently still perturbed by the sudden usage of his skills.  
“...Did it improve at least?” They eyed him wearily.  
Whiskey let out a low chuckle. “Indeed it did. I believe that I went up… thirty levels…” He held out his hand which caused his attendant to nearly fling themselves out of his room eliciting an uncharacteristic laugh from him. “Worry not, Master Attendant, I will not do so without warning next time.”  
So the bastard has the ability to laugh. Laugh at others, that was.

“Ha, ha,” his attendant mocked back. “Very funny.” If the muscles within their face was not in place, their eyes would have rolled to the back of their head.  
“Do you have ophidiophobia? Afraid of snakes, perhaps?”

It would have been quite unfortunate for them to have summoned Whiskey off all food souls if they were to have such a fear.   
“I do not have a fear of snakes, but I’m sure that anyone would be startled from the appearance of two abnormally large black snakes from out of nowhere.”  
“That’s good,” Whiskey mused softly.

Two blurs appeared behind the food soul, twirling around and forming into the images of the two black snakes as shown earlier. His attendant did not seem as startled as they did during the snakes’ first appearance.   
Sensing this, the two snakes slithered closer to his attendant whom made no attempt to back away.  
One of them managed reel itself up and bop the tip of its head onto his attendant’s cheek much to both of their surprise. Though between the two, it was more surprising to Whiskey whom made no effort to show it on his features. Their attendant showed no adverse reaction to the reptiles-- only revealing a very curious stare.  
“That’s...cute?” They were more surprised that the tameness of the two reptiles. The snakes themselves were very sleek and smooth to the touch. Soft almost.  
They weren’t sure what else to say.   
But those words were enough. 

They started to pick up the empty mug and plate to turn around to head back to store operations. But it wasn’t before seeing a rare sight of Whiskey who seemed very pleased at the interactions between his attendant and snakes as they slithered back to him.


	4. Integrated Contract - Acquaintance

“Ummm…. Why don’t you go… do your research or something…?”   
“Would you rather not have me assist you?”  
“It’ll be fine.” Their answer came quick. “Just think of it as having some time to yourself. You’ve worked hard these past few weeks.”

They felt actually bad for working food soul to near death. A UR soul had no place in the restaurant. Despite leveling him up with potions and seasonings, he was unable to acquire any gains in the amount of freshness that he held, nor exhibit certain bonuses when working.   
Whiskey would go through the constant cycle of overworking himself to exhaustion only to chug down a few bottles of refresh medicine to go back to work. It was an abuse that was too cruel even for a food soul like Whiskey.  
If labor laws were in place to prevent the cruel exploitation of a food soul’s labor, then they would be serving a life-time sentence.  
He deserved a break. They walked him to his room.

Whiskey had been amusing himself with collections of vials, journals and paper in his room. The food soul amassed a good sized collection in his room and often spent his spare time researching and working on his “projects”.  
Perhaps a few things needed to be said before they sent Whiskey off to an extended break such as this.

“Please don’t kill anything.”  
Whiskey turned around, amused. “Were to expecting me to do as such, Master Attendant? Worry not.”  
“Please don’t kidnap anything.”  
If that wasn’t said, then surely a food soul here or there would go missing.  
Whiskey let out a low chuckle. “If you insist, Master Attendant. Please come to fetch me if you so need my assistance.” The door to his room clicked behind him.  
Hopefully the owner of the tavern down the street sent his Pizza on an exploration far enough away...

 

Whiskey had not come out of his room for a whole month.  
It was worrisome. Very much so.  
Did food souls need to eat? Whiskey had told them once that food was simply a mere indulgence that they would seldom partake in. But they were unsure whether those words held any truth to them.  
A plate of his favorite food was held in their hands-- something that they had found out about their food soul during another unfortunate cooking incident.

Perhaps he wasn’t in his room. Maybe he left to go do nefarious Whiskey things.  
They had seen the Pizza from down the street go out on a delivery not so long ago, so hopefully Whiskey did not have a hoard of kidnapped food souls locked in his closet.  
They would just wait and see.  
They tapped gently at the door. Silence. Another tap. They heard a soft thud from inside of the room, and worriedly let themselves in.

Whiskey, at his desk, leaned over to pick up a dropped journal. The air was filled with the overwhelming scent of him. It was an aroma of strong malt with hints of oak.  
“Master Attenden’.... Mornin’... Didn’t hear you there….”

The strange accent and the lack of sophistication and elegance of his usual speak bewildered them. The lack of spatial acknowledgement that their food soul was lacking was also extremely concerning. Something was horribly wrong.  
“W-whiskey…? It’s six in the evening...”  
Whiskey adjusted the glasses on his face groggily before staring out at the window near his desk and then back at the stand of vials before him.  
“...sorry...Good evenin’ then…”  
The food soul clearly have not taken care of himself since he stowed away in his room last month. And he clearly did not rest as they had intended for him to do.

“Whiskey, you look awful.”  
The food soul had dark ringlets around his eyes. His normally proper posture was slouched and hunched over. The clothes that he normally kept so tidy had strange stains and dust all over them.  
“Figgered…” was all he managed to respond back to them.  
“I’ll be right back.”  
“Mmmkay…”

 

They came back into his room with a large bottle of blue refresh medication. They had to feed it to the food soul, as he was barely able to keep his head above the desk. The medication was gone in no time.

Whiskey blinked and sat up straighter.  
“Oh. I apologize for my lack of manners, Master Attendant.” He pat off the dust gathering on his jacket and pants before standing up and facing his attendant. “Did you need my assistance down in the shop? I would be more than willing to-”  
“No.”  
Whiskey stared at his attendant, confused by the simple command.  
“Pardon?” he inquired.  
“No. You’re staying here. And resting properly.” They ushered him to his bed, promptly taking of his jacket and accessories for him and plopping him under the covers.  
“Master Attendant, I am fine now after drinking that-”  
“NO. STAY. IN. BED.”

They pulled a chair up next to his bed and handed the plate of his favorite food over to him.   
They were quite elated that one other day when they had found out about the food that he enjoyed-- despite it being a byproduct of a cooking incident. While he had insisted that food souls did not need to eat anything, his master attendant was adamant about him enjoying food as well.

“Master Attendant, you know that food souls need not-”  
“Yes, yes. Need not to eat, blah blah blah. But you can still eat it can’t you? It’s your favorite~!”  
Whiskey gave his usual smile to his attendant before beginning to eat the meal.

Though it was not a different smile than the one he normally gave, it held a different vibe to it. Something that held more value than the superficial and trivial one that he always wore.  
The scent in the room changed too. Notes of mint and citrus could be smelt if one was keen enough to notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what his favorite food is canonically, so I’m keeping it vague over here. I think it might be a Lost Recipe food like an Apple Sangria. But since he hasn’t been released yet and I don’t know what he actually likes, it’s just… vague here. Apologies.
> 
> Also, I reference the smell of Whiskey a lot. It’ll have a little more importance later on, but just so that no one is confused, Whiskey typically has a variety of different scents. From this one article: https://www.bonigala.com/the-7-major-scent-groups-of-whisky there’s seven which include esters, aldehydes, phenols, sweets, woods, oils and cereals. The more common scents of whiskey would include Malt and Oak.  
> But then again, if this article is wrong, please let me know. I’m legally not allowed to drink yet so I have no idea what Whiskey smells or tastes like firsthand.


	5. Integrated Contract - Deliveries and... snakes

“A delivery to Nevras?”  
They were startled by the sudden question. They set the box of Mixed Greens and Braised Lamb down on the counter and turned around to see Whiskey standing in the doorway.  
“Oh, yea. The shop’s been getting more fame apparently. Someone requested a delivery to Nevras and they’re paying quite handsomely.”  
They had not gotten the chance to tell the food soul as he was quite busy with handling the customers down in the shop. But it had appeared that he had caught wind of the news anyways.

Perhaps it was the trick of light, but he appeared to be upset at the prospect that they did not tell him. From the outside, he appeared to be the same. Same smile, same appearance, same look in his eyes.  
A discreet smell of walnut hung to the air around him.  
Again, they must be imagining things. He looked the same.  
“I was about to tell you, but you were a little busy at the time.”  
“I see,” was all he responded with. “Nevras is… quite far of a trip.”  
There was that feeling again. He seemed upset but it didn’t show on his features. They weren’t sure if they were misreading him for something more than what he was.  
“W-would you mind going with me?” They weren’t sure what else to say.

It dispersed. That inkling that they had.  
Whiskey gave them his usual smile.  
“I would be more than happy to accompany you, Master Attendant.” If he had been upset, it was gone. He seemed… happier now. Was it because he thought that they were going to leave him behind?

They dismissed the thought. Whiskey had never been one to show such emotions. After all, that was the type of food soul he was. Callous and uncaring. Right?  
“Thanks, Whiskey!” He agreed to come with them nevertheless. “I’m preparing the orders right now, I’ll come to fetch you then I’m done. Why don’t you go rest up in your room for now?”  
“If you insist, Master Attendant.” He turned around and left to go take his respite.

 

“Sit behind me and grab on, Whiskey.” After the preparation of the delivery order, the two of them were ready to take off.  
“Grab onto where, Master Attendant?” The food soul was at a crossroad of confusion. Sitting behind their master attendant on the motorbike did not provide him any indication on anything to hold onto to prevent him from flying off.  
“To me, of course.”  
The realization dawned on him. But if he was flustered, he gave no indication of it.  
“Then, if you would please pardon me…” He gingerly wrapped his arms around them. Perhaps he shouldn’t have tagged along.  
“Whiskey, you’re going to fall off if you hold on that loosely.”  
He hesitantly tightened his hold on them.  
The engine roared at its ignition and revved up. The bike sprung forward with a sharp momentum which caused him to grab ahold of his attendant even closer.  
They let out a light laugh as the two of them sped off down the road.  
“Shy, are we Whiskey? That’s out of character for you.”  
He was thankful that his attendant was facing forward at the moment. They would have otherwise seen his dismay at the comment.  
“I would ask of you to retract that statement, Master Attendant.”  
He was met with only another laugh but no response much to his dismay.

 

The expedition took longer than he had expected. It was a two hour’s ride to Nevras. Of course, it would be a two hour’s ride back as well.  
Once the two of them managed to deliver the order to their client, his master attendant insisted that they took a look around the marketplace of Nevras.

While it was much different than that of the markets of Gloriville, he was admittedly intrigued by a lot of the wares that the shopkeepers of Nevras had to offer.  
In particular, a shop of animals caught his attention.  
A pure white serpent curled up in a glass tank was the object of his fascination.  
It perked up its head in interest as it seemed to stare at him-- tongue flickering as if sensing the air around him.  
“My… aren’t you a curious one…”

 

Whiskey was careful to leave a little space between himself and his attendant on their way back on the motorbike.  
The white serpent which had been the object of his interest was curled around him quite snugly underneath his vest.  
He hadn’t gotten around to telling his attendant quite yet, but the opportune time was sure to show itself sometime later on. Perhaps they didn’t have to know if he was careful enough.  
It was well behaved for the first hour of the ride back home.  
But he neglected to pay it more close attention.  
His attendant took a glance back when a small hissing caught their attention.  
“Hmmm? Whiskey, did you say somethi-” They locked eyes with the crimson ones of the albino reptile which had slithered from underneath Whiskey’s vest and was curled up along their shoulder instead.  
“WHAT THE FUCK-?”  
The motorbike swerved abruptly and the two of them tumbled off to the side of the road.  
It took a few moments for the both of them to collect themselves before his attendant gave him a glare.  
“WHISKEY, YOU DUMBASS, WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!?”  
Whiskey, holding the ivory snake close to him as if shielding it from his attendant’s terror, replied with, “A snake, Master Attendant.”  
“WHY DO YOU HAVE A SNAKE???” His attendant, out of breath and exasperated, gestured to the little serpent with both hands in a flabsergated manner.  
“It caught my eye when we toured the marketplace back in Nevras.” He smiled at them, which only fueled their exasperation. They let out a long sigh.  
They had started to think otherwise of the food soul-- thinking that there was more depth to his character than there actually was. How wrong they were.  
“WHISKEY, YOU FUCKIN DUMBASSSSSS!!!”

 

They still let him keep it nevertheless.

 

And it was no problem. Whiskey had discovered later that his reptilian friends have begun to grow on his master attendant.  
“Master Attendant, have you seen-”  
Whiskey had neglected to knock on the door of his attendant’s room before entering and stumbled upon quite the sight.  
“U-uh, it’s not what it looks like,” they stammered out.  
Whiskey let out a very amused chuckle. His eyes held a gleam to them which made his attendant flinch. “Then, Master Attendant, would you mind explaining to me what’s going on here?”  
Whiskey had found that his two black snakes had gone missing. They typically followed him everywhere and were a part of his own shadow that he cast on the ground. He checked his room, and all over the house and store to no avail. The little white one was still in its tank quite contently.  
Strangely enough, his attendant seemed to be still sleeping in. It was the only place that he had not yet checked so it was only logical for him to do so whilst waking them up for the day. He had originally thought to even ask them about the disappearance of his two little pets.  
But it appeared that he need not to.

His attendant was snuggled on their bed quite cozily with his two snakes wrapped around them. All three seemed to be content with the exception of his attendant who had a bright red blush on their face.  
“U-uh, t-they just… u-uh,” they stammered with the explanation. “T-they just came over… s-so y-you know…”

He sat down next to them and gently ran his hand over one of the serpents.  
“I’m glad that you’ve taken to them quite nicely. Especially since you’ve had such an adverse reaction to the other one.”  
They had a flush on their face and refused to look at him and his snakes for the rest of the day.


	6. Integrated Contract:  Make sure that Whiskey stays away from Television shows.  He gets ideas.

It had been a long and tiresome day at work when they finally decided to settle down and take a break.  
Whiskey had gone off to cooping himself in his room once he finished up the remaining tasks at the restaurant so there it was simply alone time for once.

The cushion of the sofa enveloped their body as they pulled up a show on the television.  
Ah, Fullmetal Alchemist. It was a rerun, but nevertheless it was still an excellent show.  
They had been so immersed in the anime that they failed to notice the presence of someone now sitting beside them as they marathoned the entire first season through the night.

 

Had the rays of sunlight not been so unpleasant as to shine directly on their face, they probably would have never woken up.  
It was warm, comfortable and there was a pleasant note of discreet butterscotch in the air. Stirring slightly, and moving their face to avoid the bright sunlight, they bumped their face into something and owlishly blinked their eyes open.  
They were comfortably nestled into the couch-- practically engulfed in the seat’s cushions-- with their head snuggly resting against Whiskey’s shoulder.  
“Have you awoken, Master Attendant?”  
They quickly blinked the sleep from their eyes and sat up.  
His smooth voice gave no indication of how he stayed fully awake last night, paying excruciatingly close detail to the show.  
“I-I fell asleep on the couch?” They looked around dazedly at their surroundings.  
“It would appear so.”  
“When did you get here?”  
“Awhile ago.”  
They stretched out their back and arms. “Did I fall asleep on you? I’m sorry.”  
Whiskey chuckled. “Please, Master Attendant. Don’t be. I did not mind.” They noticed a sharp glint in his eyes and a strange curve in his smile. “I quite enjoyed it.” He politely bid them a brief farewell as he excused himself to his room to get ready for the day.

If only they realized he was there the whole time last night, it would have saved the poor Pizza down the street a lot of woes.

 

They were running a typical day at the restaurant. Whiskey had taken a break day and was let be to do work on whatever he so pleased.  
It was quiet and relaxed as the day progressed at a moderate tempo.

Alas, it was broken with the sudden slam of the front door opening to reveal their very frantic and disheveled friend.  
“MY PIZZA’S GONE!!!”  
Oh no.

 

“Fufufu~. How could I have overlooked this?” Whiskey stared down forebodingly at the PIzza, tied and held captive in his closet. “The law of equivalent exchange. Of course, of course. I neglected to factor this in before so no wonder all of those experiments failed.”  
The poor Pizza let out a horrified, muffled scream against the gag placed in his mouth.  
“Fufufu~. Don’t worry, Pizza~.” Whiskey adjusted the glove on his left hand. “You’ll only be in… momentary pain…”

The door slammed abruptly open.  
“WHISKEY!!!”  
“Ah, Master Attendant. How can I help you?”  
The two friends burst into Whiskey’s room to find the sight of him standing in front of a demonic magic circle drawn in chalk with candles surrounding it. In the middle was Pizza fully gagged, tied up and chained to the floor.  
“PIZZA!!!”  
“MMMHHHMHMHM!!!” Pizza wiggled furiously in his bonds as he stared pleadingly at his master attendant’s devastated face.

A very interesting and awkward conversation followed.

Whiskey was in a mood. They could tell that even though he still had that iconic smile on his face.  
They stared at the disappearing silhouettes of Pizza and his master attendant disappearing down the street.  
“Whiskey, you’re not allowed to watch anime anymore.”  
They had to lay down some rules for him. No kidnapping Pizzas. No trying to kill things. And no more anime.  
“I-I’m not?” Whiskey actually broke that characteristic facade of his. His smile dropped and he turned to face them with evident dismay on his face. He seemed to have noticed that his guise broke down as he quickly turned away and strained a smile. “How… unfortunate…”  
That uncharacteristic action actually made his master attendant feel terribly guilty. Even more so than what happened to the traumatized Pizza.  
“O-other shows are fine. J-just not that anime shit, ok?” Although they had to use it as an expression to deter Whiskey from stooping to consume shit entertainment, it hurt them nevertheless to call anime shit.  
“O-oh… ok…”

What a mistake that was.

Whiskey apparently found out about the Harry Potter series. They found out that he did when they walked in on him hissing at his snakes in an attempt to communicate in Parseltongue and collecting various rocks and elixirs to create a ‘Philosopher’s Stone’.

 

They’d better hide the Pirates of the Caribbean series from him too. Before he decides to go and cry to make a mermaid cry to obtain the fountain of youth.

He was officially banned from watching any other television shows.


	7. Pure White Contract:  Notes and Aroma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> prolly should change the tags and warnings soon tbh

It was something that they noticed before, but never paid much heed to.  Whiskey’s aroma would change depending on his feelings. They were a greater indication of his emotions than what he would reveal through his expressions.

 

They had found out that Whiskey was also prone to secreting various scents much like his food counterpart.

His typical smell was that of malt and oak.  A common scent for whiskies to have.

When he was content or elated-- which typically happened when he was doing his research or when something caught his eye--, there would be notes of esters, like lemons, and the sweeter notes of butterscotch, vanilla, honey and caramel.

When he was simply flustered -- which rarely happens, but was interesting when it did-- it was notes of mint and dryness similar to hay.

When he was upset, he would excrete a more overwhelming scent of phenols and oils that in moderation added nicely to his scent, but it would be more excessive when he was irritated.  The smell would be harsh, acrid and sometimes even unpleasant depending on how foul his mood was.

 

But on occasion, they found him to have this scorched woody scent with sweet notes underneath.

 

But of course, mere hypothesis was mere hypothesis.  It can only become factual if it were put to the test and confirmed.

  
  


“What are you doing, Master Attendant?”

“Nothing.”

“It does not seem to be simply nothing.”

They had buried their head in his chest and Whiskey had both arms awkwardly around them as if they were contemplating to let his attendant be or push them away.

 

Sniff.  

Sniff sniff.

They pawed at his shirt and stuck their face into it as if he was a scratch-and-sniff sticker.

Sniff.

 

“Master Attendant… are you… sniff-”

Apparently the shirt did not give good enough indication as they tilted their head up and sniffed at the base of his neck.

He felt a flash of heat run through his neck and ears.

Ah, there it was, those notes of dry hay and underlying mint.  He got flustered. It didn’t show on his face as there was still that calm smile of his.  There was one aroma confirmed.

“Master Attendant, please-”  

A pinch.

“Master Att-”

Another pinch.

Ah, there it is.  He was smiling, yes.  But there was that slightly harsh smell of phenol and oil in the usual scent of malt and oak.  He was getting pissed.

 

They finally backed off of him to give him some more space.

Whiskey, almost through clenched teeth, asked, “Would you mind telling me what that was all about, Master Attendant?”

They chuckled to much to his further irritation.  “I was just testing a hypothesis. That’s all. Did it bother you?”

“A hypothesis?”  That oily phenol smell was gone.  There was a slight citrus and honey note now.  He was curious. “What is it?”

 

“Mmmm…”  They contemplated for a little bit before resigning to simply teasing him.  “Can’t tell you!”

There was those phenols again.

Whiskey, irked, walked over to the couch in the living space and plopped himself down.

 

“Are you angry?”

“No.”

They sat down next to him, looking at him with smug eyes.

“I’m not sure why you think I was.”  He gave them a side glance, but didn’t bother to give them the luxury of his full attention.

His attendant laughed merrily.  “That’s the hypothesis I’m testing!”  They poked him in the arm. “I’m sorry if I made you upset, Whiskey.”

 

He really shouldn’t indulge in his master attendant as much as he did.  They were getting spoiled from the courtesy treatment he gave them as they were his attendant.

Yet despite innately wishing to torment his attendant to the point where they would sorely regret messing with him, he found himself yielding to their whims. 

 

“Did you want to… continue then…?”  Whiskey outstretched his arms and glanced off to the side.  The notes of hay and grass was back.

They were off-put for a little bit before nodding eagerly and nestling up against him.

 

The notes of grass and hay lingered for a good time before it progressed into notes of vanilla and honey.

The two of them snuggled on the couch for a long time, relishing the one another’s company.  On occasion, Whiskey would exclude the scent of scorched maple and deep honey.

They would look up at him to see if they could potentially identify what he was feeling in that instance, but his calm, relaxed demeanor gave them no direction.

 

It was a question to be resolved for another day as the weight of the eyelids grew heavy, and the two of them slowly drifted off to sleep.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

Funny Scenario that I wish would happen, but if I were to officially include, it would ruin the nice fluffy ending, but here it is anyways.  

**Please read at your discretion for it will ruin the fluffy end completely:**

~~~~~~~~~~

“W-whiskey.”

“Mmm?”

“Something’s… poking me…”

That scorched scent now had very prevalent notes of mint and dry hay.  Though they nearly did not have to distinguish his feelings from his scents alone.  A very pale flush covered Whiskey’s cheeks.

“That is…. My..”  He fumbled with the word.  Whiskey was looking everywhere aside from his attendant.  But he seemed to have come up with some ungodly excuse and decided to answer with one, foreboding and absolutely damned word.  “Snake.”

“Y-your….  snake...?”

“Y-yes.”

Whiskey’s two black pets slithered out from the undercoat of his jacket.

“Oh!”  His attendant laughed happily as they slided and stroked the reptiles with their hands ( ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)) .  “Well, it’s getting late.  I’ll see you tomorrow morning.  Goodnight, Whiskey.” They stood up and let the two little snakes back down onto the sofa and headed off to their own room.

 

Whiskey let out a sigh.  And picked up the two serpents in his arms.

“That was a close one.”

His ability to summon his two familiars came in real clutch this time.  His answer of his snakes being the thing that poked his attendant was half true after all.  But it wasn’t his familiars that was the snake poking his attendant.

 

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	8. Pure White Contract - Sun Naps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks hrhowling for the headcanon that Whiskey likes to sunbathe like a snake.  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Whiskey?”  
His room was empty and he was nowhere to be seen in the store. He would typically arrive early to help out with morning prep work so it was unusual for him to be absent at this hour.  
They wandered down from the house upstairs to their store below.

Perhaps he had gone out to the market.  
They opened the front door to head out to look for him.  
Where could he have gone? Not too far, they hoped.

But their question was resolved when their foot collided with something and heard a soft grunt.  
“Hmm? Master Attendant?”  
“Huh?”  
They stared down to see the food soul sprawled across the concrete, basking in the sun with his snakes curled on him. A few passerbys gave them a very peculiar stare.  
“W-whiskey?!”  
“Yes? Did you need something, Master Attendant?”  
He made no move to sit or stand up. In fact, he looked extremely comfortable in his position and didn’t seem like he was going to be moving anytime soon.

“W-whatchu doin there, Whiskey?” He was a grown ass man in a suit laying down on the concrete floor. They were almost afraid to hear the answer.  
“Sunbathing. It’s quite pleasant. Would you like to join me?”  
He stretched out his arms in a welcoming manner. They weren’t sure as to whether or not he’s teasing them like the bastard he is, or if he’s an actual dumbass without regards to social norms.  
“I-I’ll pass, but thanks.” Their smile was a hesitant one.  
Whiskey smiled. “I insist.”

The food soul’s smile was indecipherable.  
Whiskey was capable of deception and hiding his bastard characteristics. But at the same time they found him out to be one of the dumbest food souls in existence as he often lacked common sense.

Before they had the chance to refuse him, he managed to add on, “Won’t you humor me by simply trying it out?” Those eyes stared into theirs. “Please?”

Curse him.  
Curse him and his ability to manipulate emotions like this.   
They knew from the start that they would one day have to stay strong against his overbearing strength in toying with them like this. They had trained themselves mentally to be resilient against his attacks.

But somehow it all flew out the window as they awkwardly laid down on the concrete next to him, using his arm as a headrest of sorts.

Passing strangers who overlooked stared in horror at the sight of two grown ass adults laying on the concrete floor basking in the sun.

They weren’t sure whether it was the embarrassment of this activity that heated their cheeks or the actual sunlight itself. But it was certain that they were flushed and hot from engaging in something that deviated from social norms.

“Isn’t it comfortable?”  
Eh?  
They turned a bit to face him.  
Suddenly, the brute embarrassment from all those stares were gone as his face became the only thing in sight. It grew quiet and serene with the background noises fading out into the distance.  
They felt the warmth of the sun on their skin and heard the soft rhythm of breathing.  
How strange.  
“Yea, it is. It’s comfortable.”  
Whiskey let out a soft chuckle and smiled. “That’s good.” He closed his eyes.

The flow of blood and the thundering of their heart beat flooded their ears.  
The warmth of the sun, the notes of vanilla and maple, and the quiet rise and fall of Whiskey’s breathing lured them into the sleep of a drowsy spell.

 

They were both woken up by a patrolman later on for sleeping in the middle of the street.  
But thankfully their house had a nice rooftop patio perfect for sun naps.


	9. Pure White Contract - when whiskey's not an evil man, it's even scarier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone come up with a title for this chapter pls. idk what else to call it.  
> Also, I was inspired by @rairy-nyan's drawing of Whiskey for this chapter: http://rairy-nyan.tumblr.com/post/180916362851  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Master Attendant.”   
“Yes, Whisk-”

Coffee spewed from their pursed lips as they beheld the sight before them.

 

Whiskey, confidently posed along the counter, held up two fingers up to his face to make a peace sign of sorts.  The food soul had one eye closed in a wink with his lips curved into what the food soul thought was an actual smile.

 

“Did you not like it?”

“U-u-uh…”  Their hands were shaking and the coffee mug was spilling its contents everywhere.

“That’s strange…”  Whiskey reverted to his normal posture.  “I was told that humans enjoyed these types of gestures.”

“What?  Who told you-”

“What about this one then?”  Whiskey closed both eyes this time, smiling widely and made two peace signs this time to hold up to his puffed out cheeks.

“Mpphm-!”  They had to bite their tongue hard enough to draw blood to stop them from giving him any more encouragement.

Yo.

Yo…

YOOOO.

What was that?

WHAT WAS THAT?

They felt attacked.  

Viciously attacked.

Was Whiskey… trying to be cute??!?!

WHAT?

The worst part was that it was working.

Their cheeks were aflame, but it was unsure as to whether it was from second-hand embarrassment or from the effectiveness of the appeal to the dere side.  

Their heart took critical damage just then.

Was he messing with them?

But the food soul actually seemed genuine in his attempts to do… whatever he was doing…

However, that did not mean that they would have to play along.  

 

Whiskey looked dejected at the sight of them averting their eyes away.

He let out a sigh.  “So I’m not cute, huh…?”  He sounded so distraught that they immediately felt bad for not giving him a proper reaction.

But it didn’t dissuade him any bit in going for round two as he quickly advanced towards them.  He came on at such a strong pace, that they unconsciously took a step back. Many steps back. So many steps back until their back was touching the wall.

They stared up at him like a little mouse cornered by a vicious snake.  They were stuck in the corner of the store with his entire body blocking any viable escape route.  They glanced towards his sides, wondering if they could potentially duck under him and run away.

There was great tension in the small gap of air between them that was about to break at any instant.

Whiskey smiled.  A single call of their name draw their attention back to him.  “Master Attendant.”

He abruptly slammed his hand against the wall, effectively scaring the shit out of them as well as trapping them in a very intense kabedon.

 

The scream was unable to escape from their throat.    Suddenly the beating of their heart overid any other sounds in the background and grew increasingly loud in their ear.

It was strange.  Did the world always spin like this?

They didn’t really recall anything else before it all went dark.

 

“What about this?  How do you feel about this one, Master Attendant?”

Whiskey stared at his attendant who had a trail of blood streaming from their nose.

“Master Attendant?”

Their legs gave out from underneath them as they started to collapse from the weight of their own body.  Fortunately, Whiskey was quick enough to catch them before they hit their head on the ground.

 

When they awoke an hour later, they made sure to not be around any corners or walls of sorts when Whiskey was around.


	10. Real Contract - Relying on one another

“What do you do when your food soul is upset with you?”  
“Is Whiskey upset with you or something?”

They both took a ganter back at the food soul in question. He stood there-- a good distance from the two-- with his usual smile on his face and provided no indication of potentially being remotely upset.  
It was a chance encounter that his master attendant had run into their friend who ran the shop down the street. They had hastily pulled them over to ask for advice.

The friend took a nervous glance at Whiskey and then back to his master attendant.  
“I don’t see anything wrong with him… He’s still got that… smile on his face.”  
Their friend, the one who had a Pizza, was always quite weary of Whiskey and even more so after the Pizza FMA incident.

“No, no. Look more closely. He’s fuming.” They gestured to the food soul, who actually noticed the gesture and smiled with an innocent tilt of his head. The small gesture sent a shiver down both attendant’s back. “He’s gonna kill me.” They whispered to their friend.  
The friend wrapped an arm around their shoulder and bent their heads together to divulge their opinion in a soft whisper. “To be quite honest, I have no idea what you’re talking about since to me the bastard and his evil smile looks like he’s always about to kill-”  
“I would never dare to harm my master attendant.”  
Loud shrieks were heard as Whiskey appeared behind the two of them.

“WELL, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME. PIZZA MUST BE BACK FROM HIS EXPLORATION,” their friend announced quite loudly. “NICE TALKING TO YOU AGAIN. BUT I MUST BE GOING.”  
“H-hold up I thought you just sent Pizza on a three hour-”  
“WELL HE CAME BACK, WHAT A GOOD BOY.” Their friend took off running, leaving Whiskey and his master attendant behind in the cloud of dirt that had been kicked up from the sheer momentum of the sprint.

“How nice of you to have a caring friend, Master Attendant,” Whiskey mused as the two of them stared at the disappearing silhouette of the friend.  
His attendant gave him a stink eye. Whiskey, as if basking in the glory of what chaos he wreaked, gave a quirky smile as he averted his eyes up and towards the side.  
His attendant let out a sigh before heading back to the store-- Whiskey following close behind them.

 

Whiskey kept to himself for the rest of the day.  
He did not speak to them unless the task at hand demanded of it. And once the day’s work was over, he quietly disappeared into his room.

 

It was troubling for him to act this way.  
They lingered at the front of his bedroom door, debating as to whether or not to try and go in to pry out and address what caused this mood of his. A hesitant hand was slowly lowered to their side. They had no confidence to do so. And it pained them to see him this way.

They took a seat at the table with a supply kit full of salve and bandage wraps and begun to dress the gash on the side of their arm.

“Does it… still hurt?”  
Their attention was turned to the food soul hovering next to them, staring at the wound on their arm.  
“N-no, not really.” They made an attempt to wave their arm around to prove their point, but only managing to tear the healing tissue causing more blood to run.  
Whiskey grabbed ahold of their arm and took an adjacent seat. “Let me treat your wound, Master Attendant.”

He slowly applied the salve and gently wrapped the gauze around the wound whilst intently staring at the wound in his hands.  
“Humans are unbelievably fragile. They... perish so easily. So, please be careful.”  
“Whiskey?”  
They had overlooked the consideration of him feeling any remorse for the wound.  
“Please don’t… put yourself at risk like this for someone like me.” He looked almost apologetic with those words. “Unlike you, my time here is infinite. Yours is finite and short-lived.”

So that was it.

They had received a chest of grade A spirits from the association as a reward for having done so many deliveries and procuring so much fame in their store.  
One of the spirits awoken happened to be a Tsuchigumo. Whiskey was fascinated by the fallen as to how it was created from multiple limbs of other fallens. “It’s for studying purposes, Master Attendant.” He would hold the Tsuchigumo under his arm as it flailed out. “I’m very intrigued at how simply combining the various limbs of a Prajna can create a living being.”

He would say that, yet he treated it quite affectionately at times and would often sneak it pieces of leftover food from the day’s end. When caught, he would retort with something along the lines of keeping his test subject alive.

Seeing as how the fallen had taken so nicely to him and vice versa, they insisted to run through the lower floors of the Catacomb to obtain more spirits.  
As strong as Whiskey was, he alone could not take the brute of all the fallens at once.  
They had thrown themselves to the front to swing a blade chop at the Aizen in an effort to insta-kill it. However they had gauges its health wrong and the Aizen still stood, albeit nearly dead. The proximity of it to their vulnerable state allowed for it to swing a devastating blow at them before they had the time to fall back.  
The two of them made it out of the tenth floor, but not without a few injuries here and there. Most had healed up nicely, though the gash on their arm was deeper and required more time to heal.

They had wondered why the food soul was acting so peculiarly after that venture, but attributed it to the tiredness from the day.  
Clearly, they were wrong.  
He had been feeling upset about their injury all this time.

“Whiskey.” The food soul’s crimson eyes bore into theirs. “Please don’t feel bad about it. It’s nothing, really.”  
“Master Attendant-”  
“You took a lot of damage during that trip too. Even more so than I did.”  
“Yes, but you were providing support in healing me, I cannot-”  
“But you protected the both of us in there, no?” The food soul held his tongue. They were desperate to convince him of the need to dismiss those thoughts. “We made it out alive thanks to you.”  
There was a strange expression on his face. It was a mixture of confliction and an unsettling discomfort.  
“Could you not rely on me more? Am I not enough…?”  
“Relying goes both ways, Whiskey.” They stared up at the food soul with a smile. “I’m sorry for not relying on you more. But… could I ask of you to rely on me too?”  
He stared at the bandaged arm, lost in thought. A few brief moments passed before the focus of his gaze drew elsewhere. He met their eyes in a look of what seemed to be honest sincerity.  
“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I have to make a serious chapter once in awhile :P
> 
> I don't know what Whiskey's preferred fallen is. My speculation may be one of the fallens not yet out, an Aizen (alcoholic FA and an alcohol food soul pair makes sense) or a Tsuchigumo (since the way its pieced together could be something interesting that Whiskey would like to find more about). Either way, I'm trying to write it in a way that he's just fascinated by it, but I'm not trying to say that it's his preferred one.
> 
> Also, I feel that I'm going on a tangent and stretching real far here. I'm not comfortable with making characters so OC like what I think is happening with Whiskey in this story so far.  
> Half of me wants to degrade his character so that no one takes him seriously when he actually comes out, and half of me wants to genuinely speculate about how his character is going to be.  
> I think it'll be a combination of the two. The epilogue will definitely be more of my speculation of what his true motivations are.


	11. Real Contract - The Dangers of Alchemy and Cute Snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> True Contract - The ties between the two are simply a natural part of life.  
> Whiskey's quirks, characteristics, personality and true nature are more prevalent.

“Whiskey?”  
A loud thud and a series of strange scuffling upstairs had alerted their attention to quickly make way to his room.  
They rapped on the door with a quick sequence of staccato knocks before letting themselves in.

There was a few scattered papers and journals that laid haphazardly on the desk, floor and chair. A rack of glass tubes held fluorescent liquids held its contents for the most part aside from one or two that were rolling back and forth with its contents spilled out on the desk. Whiskey’s jacket was hung on the coat rack and his shirt and vest were piled strangely on the chair at his desk.  
And he was nowhere to be seen. They looked around his room, in his closet, under his bed for any signs of him and perhaps a kidnapped Pizza.  
There was nothing.

Their attention was drawn to a little serpent curled up under a pile of papers when it had moved around and caused the papers to rustle.  
It was a mid-sized python with a skin of deep russet, gold and woody brown. It spotted them and flicked out its tongue once or twice before attempting to bury itself back in the stack of papers. It nestled shyly under the papers and curled up with its head tucked under its stomach.

Was this a new one that Whiskey brought in without their knowledge? They recollected to that one time they had found out that Whiskey enjoyed his little reptilian companions and snuck one on the motorbike ride back from Nevras. He would typically find one or two and keep it at that. The two live pets-- they excluded counting the duo of black ones that followed him in his shadows-- were resting snuggly in their appropriate tanks.  
They took a quick look around the room, but did not spot a new enclosure for this one.  
Had it snuck in by itself?

They approached the pile of papers cautiously and lifted up the sheets one by one as to not startle the reptile too much. The snake poked its head up curiosity at them before immediately curling up again.  
The gesture for some reason made their heart warm.  
“Aww~... are you shy, little guy?” They made sure to be gentle in their handling-- initially running a light hand over the length of the snake and then lifting it up slowly into their arms.

Once they were holding it, they realized that it was slightly larger than what they had originally thought-- since it was curled up before.  
The snake stared down at the ground before turning its head to face them with its head tilted slightly sideways.  
“Dawww~. You’re so cute!” They couldn’t help bopping their nose with their own. The snake immediately turned its head around. They gathered up the rest of its length into their arms, and it started to curl and wrap its body around their torso and limbs. “Where did you come from~?” They started to pet the snake and engaging in a conversation with it. Of course it wasn’t really a conversation, but rather just a one-sided delusional conversation with a snake incapable of speech.  
“Did Whiskey bring you in here, or did you sneak in here by yourself?”  
The snake flicked its tongue and started to drape themselves over their shoulders with its head hanging more or less in front next to theirs. It bopped its head on their cheek which made them squeal in delight like a small child in a candy store.  
“So cute~! If Whiskey didn’t bring you here, then you can be my snek!” they announced proudly. “And I will call you, ‘Snek’!”  
The snake bopped its head on their cheek again which sent them into euphoric joy.

They noticed that the reptile was surprisingly cold and it held onto them quite tightly and would on occasionally burl its head against their neck as if seeking warmth.  
Recollection of reptile facts brought them to the awareness that since it had been curling up in that dark pile of papers on the ground, it must have been quite cold. It would need light and some sort of heat source in order to keep it warm and comfortable.

“Here we go~!”  
The two of them arrived at the rooftop where they would occasionally take sun naps with Whiskey. A nice hammock was already built there so they laid down there with the serpent curled up against them. It looked quite cozy as it laid there with its eyes closed and its tongue flickering out occasionally.  
“You look quite cozy, snek.” They patted the snake tenderly. For a brief moment, they thought that they caught the notes of butterscotch and vanilla in the air. “I wonder where Whiskey went… Should I go looking for him?”  
The snake, much to their shock, shook its head side to side to gesture a “no”.  
“D-don’t go looking for him?”  
It nodded.  
“A-and you’re understanding me…!”  
It nodded again.  
The worst thing came to mind. “D-did Whiskey… experiment on you!?”  
It turned away and didn’t make eye contact.  
“DAMMIT, WHISKEY!!!” The snake got startled by their sudden outburst. They profusely apologized to it and calmed down a bit. “Awww… I’m sorry, snek. My food soul keeps kidnapping things and experimenting on them…” The petted the snake apologetically. “He doesn’t normally mess with snakes though… so I don’t know what happened to you…”  
They put their hands up and waved them around. “I-it’s not like he’s a bad food soul though! He’s actually just-” A dumbass? A jackass? A general ass? “Someone that gets really absorbed into what he does. He really likes to study alchemy for reasons that I’m waiting for him to tell me himself.” 

They started rambling to the poor snake now. 

“He tries really hard and is really smart, but he just lacks some common sense and tact at times.  
At first, I didn’t really want to summon a food soul and I wasn’t sure whether Whiskey would be a good food soul…  
He often gives me a headache because of the things he does like kidnapping Pizza, spiking customer meals with alcohol, and lying out in the middle of the street to take a nap. But, I really… I’ve really enjoyed all those things…  
I managed to find a lot of things about him, and it’s been interesting and fun to do so. He actually smells like his alcohol counterpart with different aromas depending on how he feels. He overworks himself and has no sense of self-preservation when he gets too engaged in something.

Oh… sorry, I started rambling… I’m sorry that you had to listen to me go on like that.”  
The snake stared at them for a moment before shaking its head and bopping it on their cheek.  
“You… are so adorable, snek. So adorable.”

 

The day wore on. Thankfully the store was closed for its weekly off-day. They didn’t do so much other than played with the snake, ate some food, and tried to feed the snake some food (it couldn’t eat normal foods and didn’t want to eat a dead mouse). Though they didn’t necessarily look for Whiskey, they did drop by their friend’s shop to make sure that the Pizza was ok. The snake kind of slithered towards the Pizza to do something, but immediately retreated when the food soul also called it cute and tried to hold it.

The snake was quite fond of them they seemed. It wrapped itself around their torso and arms, around their neck and rested its head on their shoulder. On occasion, it would bop them on the cheek or rub its head against theirs-- effectively eliciting a exclamation of sheer delight.

It wasn’t until they were taking a short nap on the rooftop hammock again in the waning light of the sun that they felt a sudden lurch and the presence of something beneath them.  
Instead of the smooth skin of a snake they felt against them, it was something more warm, soft and pretty firm.  
They immediately opened their eyes to find themselves laying on top of someone who had their arms wrapped around their torso and their head resting against theirs.

Loud screaming ensued.

Whiskey dodged the chair that his attendant threw at him. That calm smile of his was once again, present on his face. The non-chalantness of the facial expression sent his attendant into an even   
“My apologies for startling you, Master Attendant.” He evaded a thrown fork.  
“WHAT WAS THAT?!? WHISKEY, WHAT WAS THAT?!” They flung a kettle this time only to have him side-step away from the projectile’s trajectory. “WHY WERE YOU A SNAKE?! I-I SAID TOO MANY THINGS BECAUSE I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE THE SNAKE, BUT YOU WERE THE SNAKE. Y-YOU ARE A SNAKE! YOU TRICKY-ASS BASTARD!! WHISKEYYY!!!!”  
“I was very flattered to hear your opinion of me, Master Attendant.” He caught the table that his attendant managed to fling at him. “It makes me happy that an incident like this could give me something useful.”  
He placed the table down and walked over to his attendant-- who had run out of projectiles to launch into orbit.  
“It was a miscalculation in one of my alchemy practices.” He grabbed their wrists, preventing them from trying to whack him. He was met with a screech. “But I’m not quite sure what you’re so upset about-”  
Another screech. “IT’S SO EMBARRASSING!!!”  
“Why is it so embarrassing?”  
“BECAUSE!”  
“Oh?” There was a devious smirk that he hadn’t yet shown to them. Whiskey grabbed them and pulled him close, huddling them in his chest. He stared down at them, a devilishly teasing look in his eyes. “Would you consider this embarrassing?”  
“YES!” They glared fiery eyes. A crimson hue adorned the surface of their cheeks.  
“Mmm… but you held me this way today~.”  
“W-WHA-?”  
“But it’s embarrassing for me to cuddle you like this? Double-standards much, attendant?”  
His attendant simply screeched in response.  
“If I turned back into a snake, perhaps you would be more willing to cuddle? I can easily-”  
“I DIDN’T SAY THAT!”  
“So you do want to cuddle with me?” Whiskey tilted his head down to stare at his flustered attendant. He had just noticed now that during his transformation, his shirt disappeared though his pants thankfully remained. Perhaps that was why his attendant was so flustered.  
“A-at least put a shirt on first!”  
They started pushing him towards the door.  
Whiskey took a pause at the door and glanced back at them with a smirk. “Are you sure about that?”  
The door slammed in his face.


	12. Real Contract - Jealousy

His snakes were nowhere to be seen; none of them made any noise either and were very well behaved.  The only source of the random hissing could only originate from one place. They locked eyes with the food soul who for once actually looked quite irritated.

“....Did...did you just...hiss at me?”

Whiskey turned the other way, refusing to look at them in the eye.  

Oh no he didn’t.  

 

But he did.

“WHISKEY.”

The food soul made no attempt to respond to the call of his name.

 

Oh no.

Ohoho no.

No, no.

If that was how he wanted to play, they too, can play at this game.

“I hope that I summon Peking-”

There was the hiss again.

“Pek-”

Hiss.

“-ing-”

Hiss.

“Peking Duck.”   
That last one was a really long and violent hiss; it was of the type that had saliva spewing from the end of the tongue.

Whiskey, still turned the other way, sat on his bed facing out towards the window.  

 

It was evident now if it wasn’t before.

“Whiskey… are you… j-jealous?”

He did not respond, but did shuffle a little bit on the bed.

It was a strange revelation that they had.  A queer sensation overwhelmed them with an onslaught of emotions that they didn’t realize they could have.

They made their way over to him slowly, sitting down on the bed next to him.  Making an attempted discrete glance at him, they noted that his usual smile was nowhere to be seen on his face-- rather he was staring desolately outside.

“Do you not like Peking?”

They had encountered a Peking Duck once on their journey to the Light Kingdom for a delivery.  Strangely, Whiskey behaved normally up until the point where they had voiced a comment which mused on the similarities between the two food souls.  They physically looked very similar and were both UR magic souls among the various other items that were not discussed aloud. They had left that Peking Duck and his master attendant with the compliment of, “You’re lucky to have him.”

Though Whiskey was a master of his calm outer facade, his attendant knew of him well enough to sense the small changes in his actions that gave indication to his mood.  A mood which had grown tremendously irritable when they left for home.

Any breaching of what may be awry in his mood was responded with, “I do not know of what irritable mood you speak of, Master Attendant.  I am perfectly content and happy that you brought me with you to this delivery.”

His scent started to bare a strong phenolic, oily smell that day.  His aroma typically fluctuate depending on his mood. It would often smell more phenolic and oily when he was in a bad mood, but this time it was overbearing which led them to be extremely concerned.

 

They had found that this mood had retrogressed into this state when they made a comment about potentially summoning another food soul-- calling out how they may appreciate a Peking Duck to join their household.

Whiskey immediately set down the crate of potatoes with a less than careful motion and hastily made an exit to his room, leaving his very concerned master attendant behind.

 

They now sat on the bed in silence with a good, respectable distance between them.  The question asked of him hung tensely in the air.

Jealousy?  Was he jealous?

“Do you want me to summon other food souls?”

“No.”

The answer was immediate.

“Why?”

“Why would you need anyone else?”  The words tumbled out irritably.

His attendant scooched a little closer to him and caught a glimpse of an upset Whiskey-- cheeks puffed out and flushed in a tantrum.  He noticed their closer proximity and scooted himself away.

This quickly escalated into a game where they would advance with a scooch and he’d shuffle further away until he was pressed against the wall with his attendant seated right next to him.

He looked at the wall with an uncomfortably focused concentration.

“Whiskey.”  A poke nudged at his shoulder.  “Whiskeyyy~.”

He did his best to ignore it, but it was evident that the act was wearing on his nerves with each prod increasing in its intensity.

“Whiskey are you jealous?”

“No,” he snapped.

Oh ho.

They prodded him again with a upturned smile, unable to restrain from teasing him.  “You are~!”

“Please do not make that assumption, Master Attendant.”  Whiskey still refused to acknowledge them. “I do not feel such mundane emotions like jealousy.”

“I see.  Of course you don’t.”  His attendant’s words were anything but convinced.  “So there’s no problem in summoning a M soul like Pudding-”

Whiskey, though still faced the other way, was fully engaged in their words now -- it was evident by his suddenly stiff and tense back.

Only when he felt the sudden release of weight from the bed did he turn around to peek over at his attendant.

“It’s true, I’ve got you already.  And you’re the only one I really need for most things.  So I won’t need someone like Peking Duck or Champagne. A medium soul would do.  I’ll be right back-”

“W-wait, Master Attendant-”  He turned around and grabbed their arm.  “I-I’ll come with you.”

“Oh?  That’s fine.  Let’s go then!”

  
  


Whiskey was silent on the walk down the road.  He trailed a good distance behind them, and when they stopped occasionally to turn around to face him, he would look towards the side at one of the shops.

There wasn’t really the intent on summoning another food soul.

They had originally embarked on this little venture to see how Whiskey would react.  However, this sulking mood of his as he trailed so far behind them made them feel a nagging remorse in their heart.

  
It wasn’t until they turned around another time did they see him completely stop in the middle of the street staring at a quiet little bar.

“Whiskey?”

He glanced over at them before tilting his head in the direction of the store.

“Up for a drink before we head there?”

  
  


“Bah!  Foine, foine!” Whiskey let out a grumble before the hand holding the glass of alcohol slammed down on the counter.  “Oi’m fookin jealous, ok? Yer fookin’ happy nrow?”

“Hmm?  What was that?”

“Yer gone deaf?”.  Whiskey let out an uncharacteristic tsk of the tongue before turning around on the bar stool to face them.  “Oi’m fookin jealous, ok? Yer can’t fookin’ summon anotha food soul. Oi’m the only one ya can have!”

“Who made that rule?”

“Oi did!”

“Oh?  But aren’t I your master attendant?  I can summon another food soul, and you can’t do anything to stop me.”

They were teasing him now.  Whiskey, now pretty intoxicated after downing about an entire bottle of his food counterpart, was on the second and the barkeep was still making quite frequent visits to top off his glass.

“Oi’mma fookin kill alla ‘em if ya bring any ‘ome.”  He squinted his eyes and gave them a rather sinister smirk as he poked a finger at them.  He more or less immediately turned back around downed the rest of the drink in a single gulp.  “Barkeep! Anotha one!”

 

This was an interesting side of him that they had never seen before.

They had known about the stranger accent and more loose character he had when he had gotten tired, but they did not realize that it applied to his intoxicated state as well.

Alongside the funny little accent and his more relaxed character, he was actually honest.  It was actually endearing about how straightforward he was when he was drunk.

They looked over to see Whiskey swirling his glass around, watching the ice clink around the glass in a childish fascination.

“‘Meri me, Master Attendant.”

“E-excuse me?”

“Uuuughh.  Why are ya so fookin’ deaf?  I said marry me!”

“Whiskey, you’re drunk.”

“Bah!  Oi’m not drunk!  Yer drunk!” The food soul was barely sitting on the stool anymore.  He was half seated and wobbling around unstably.

“W-we’re going home.”  They stood up and grabbed his arm to support him.

“There’s ta bottles still left on that shelf though!”  Whiskey haphazardly pointed at the bottles of bourbon on the top shelf.

“Whiskey, you’ve drunk two bottles already.  You’ll die if you drink any more.”

“Bah!  I can’t fookin’ die.”

“Whiskey, we’re leaving.  If you don’t leave with me, I’ll summon another food soul and if it’s a UR, I don’t know if you can beat them or not.”

“Bah!  Foine foine!!!”  Whiskey chugged the rest of the drink, turned around, tripped and face-planted on the ground.

  
  


“Yer marrying me.”

“Do I have a choice in this?”

“No.”

The two of them were on the way home with Whiskey being more or less dragged by his attendant since he was too drunk to walk upright.  They had left the bar embarrassingly since Whiskey tripped and fumbled face first into the hardwood floor when he tripped on the barstool.

“Why do you want to marry me, Whiskey?”

“So ya can’t get ‘ny moar food souls.  If oi marry ya, yer mine. Foreva.”

They stared at the food soul, expecting him to be somewhat joking.

But he was serious.

Despite being drunk to the point where he couldn’t walk properly, Whiskey’s slightly flushed cheeks and crimson eyes held a genuine sincerity in them as he stared at their face.

They averted their eyes quickly much to Whiskey’s drunk confusion.

 

They kicked the door open and fumbled in with Whiskey draped over their shoulder.

As they hauled him to his room, he was winding strands of their hair in his fingers.

“Yer hair’s soft.”

“Thanks Whisk.”  They threw him on the bed.

“Oof.  It’s mah bed...”

“Yea, it is.”  They paused momentarily to catch their breath.  “Goodnight Whiskey.”

“Wait.”  An arm reached out to grab them.  With a strong pull, they fumbled onto the bed with him.  “Yer married to me now. Ya gotta… sleep here now.”

“Whiskey, you’re drunk.”

“And yer married to me.”

“I don’t think you understand how marriage works.”

“Oi don’t think yer understand that yer merried to me.”

They let out a sigh and tried to escape his grasp, but he had an unbelievably strong hold on them.  “There’s a procedure for this. You can’t just say that we’re married and then boom! We’re married.”

“Bah!  Foine foine!”  Whiskey dragged them closer to him.  The scent of alcohol was strong, and it was unclear as to whether that was his actual scent or the scent from the numerous drinks he had earlier.  “Have yer procedure then!”

He leaned in close and pressed his lips against theirs.


	13. Divine Contract - Pledge

The taste of sweet honey overwhelmed their senses-- hot, burning honey.  It stung the throat and fuddled the mind. An intense scent of scorched maple and burnt oak hung heavy in the olfactory.

To think that he tasted the complete same as his food counterpart.

Just like the drink, his kiss was filled with an intense liquor that made them tipsy within the first few moments.

“How’s tha?”

“T-that’s-”  They felt the buzz of alcohol already and their thoughts and speech were definitely affected.

“No?”  Whiskey sat upright and stared at them with squinty eyes.  “Tha’s right… ya humans do somethin’ mo’ intimate, right?” Whiskey haphazardly fumbled with the unbuttoning of his shirt and vest. 

“W-wait, Whiskey-”

“Ah shiet.  Sorry. Oi shoulda got ya first.”  His hands went to fumble with the buttons of their shirt now.

“W-Whiskey-”

“Oi’ve got this, don’t worry-”  He somehow managed to get his fingers stuck in the buttonhole and was furiously yanking at it causing their whole shirt to simply come off.  “‘Dere we go!”

“Oh my god, Whiskey-!”

Their complaints about his more drunken state and any attempts to dissuade him from his current action to go to sleep peacefully failed.

“‘Ere’s a kissy-”

Whiskey, more or less, drunkenly smushed his face against theirs.  Their multiple exchanges of intimacy clouded their mind with a drunken haze.

The rest of the memories of that night were blurred from intoxication.  The only sensation that they felt before relinquishing themselves to unconsciousness was the thrill of elation that buzzed through them and the lingering sensation of pleasure and satisfaction.

  
  


“M-master Attendant?!”

The shaking of the bed and the sudden exclamation of their bedmate stirred them from their slumber.  A ringing headache wreaked havoc within the depths of their skull.

“Not so loud… please… I think you’ve given me a hangover…”

“H-hangover?”  Had they not had such an intensely painful headache, they would have savored the food soul’s flabbergasted expression.  The food soul had just put on his glasses -- they could tell by his hand still lingering at the frame. He was shirtless, and simply from the knowledge of what had incurred last night, beneath those comforters and blankets he was also trouser-less.

They were also in a similar state of dress.

 

It took a moment for the food soul to piece together the fragmented memories of the previous night and the current condition that the both of them were in.  But once he had come up with enough to make a conclusion, he let out an agonizing groan whilst holding a hand over his forehead in exasperation.

“L-last night-”

“Oh yea, last night.”  The hangover drew out their more blunt and bitter spirit.  “But it’s morning. So good morning, Whiskey. Or I guess, good morning, husband.”

“...Husband-.  Oh.”

He buried his head in both hands now.

  
  


While he would have evaded any responsibilities or brushed off that night’s previous events, his attendant was dead set on officially pledging with him.

And so, he was there.

A pen soaked in magic ink was held in his hand.  And right beside him was his attendant holding the contract paper nice and taunt so that he could legibly sign his name.

His attendant was glaring at him, their gaze going more fierce with each second that his hand hovered over the paper without motion.

“Is that pen there for decoration?”  A tsk. “If so, it’d look better if it was stuck up your ass-”

“I was simply trying to comprehend why you wanted to pledge with me was all.”

His attendant’s mood was foul.  He made sure to never let them get intoxicated to the point of a hangover again.

“You know why you drunk ass-”

“Worry not, Attendant.  I’m signing as we speak-”

The pen inked out his name and a glowing light encompassed the two of them.

 

“Attendant.  Signing a pledge is to sign a life-long contract.”

Whiskey took a bow and extended a hand to them which they reluctantly took.

“But I will vow to serve you for eternity.  In this life and your next.”

  
  


“A nickname?”

“Yea.  I’ve got the perfect one too.”

Whiskey stared at them in slight worry.  After all, they were giving a nickname whilst undergoing one of the worst hangovers they’ve experienced thus far.

“But of course.  Master Attendant, please do impart your nickname for me.”

“Dumbass Whiskey.”

“...”

Whiskey stared at his attendant with an attempt to discern any traces of humor or jest.  But alas, there were none.

“Pardon?”

“Dumbass Whiskey.  Wait.” They paused with a finger held up to their chin.  “DUMBASS WHISKEYYYY.”

The name was put down.

 

Walking from the pledging altar, the two of them walked in slight silence before Whiskey decided to break it with the question.

“Why that name?”

“Because you’re a dumbass.”

“P-pardon?”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE A DUMBASSSSSSSSSS!”  His attendant spun around and jabbed a finger into his chest with each prod increasing in intensity.  “Who da fuck just fuckin’ sleep in the fuckin’ sidewalk like a fuckin’ dumbasss. Who da fuck be hissin’ at people like a fuckin’ dumbass?”

The rambling continued as his attendant stumbled into the closest bar and took a seat on the barstool.

“Barkeep!  A Redbreast, neat.  And a Woodford, rocks.”

Whiskey had to stifle any comments about them ordering two glasses of his food counterpart at such early hour in the day.

Once they’ve had their drinks though, they turned right back around and started to complain about him again.

“You’re a fucking dumbass, Whiskey.  A fuckin’ DUMB ASS. Oh my Elex, I’ve had such a huge headache.  I’ve suffered so many woes. I gotta go drink my problems away.” They took pause and looked at him for a few seconds.  They stared at the glass of whiskey in their hand-- ice clinking against the glass. “But if I drink, I still get woes. Whiskey woes.  IT’S STILL WHISKEY WOES EITHER WAY!”

They screamed in horror as they downed the rest of the whiskey and passed out.


	14. Epilogue

He chose carefully when there was a call of summon.  He rarely allowed himself to be bound in contract to another.  In the vast eternity that he had spent as a food soul, a being meant to serve humanity, he had only chosen to serve but a few.

After all, why serve these humans who live such finite lives?  Humans are always interesting creatures. With so many, there was such a variety.  There were greedy ones. There were hypocritical ones. There were unfortunate ones.  And there were the brave ones. As much as Whiskey enjoyed simply watching these humans bicker and fight amongst themselves to death with or without the aid of food souls, he would often enjoy intervening and partake in the fun himself.  Humans, with all their faults and vulnerabilities, were enjoyable.

He played his hand carefully each time to cultivate the results he desired.  And the guise of diligence, gentleness and wisdom had always worked well to his cause.

 

But when he was summoned this time, this version of his attendant seemed to have a pre-existing notion about him in comparison to the others he served.  It made him wonder if news of what he had done in the past couple of decades had reached them. The thought made him quirk a corner of his mouth.

The look of horror on their face when they first saw him made him laugh on the inside.  He was amused by how quickly they covered it up though and offered him a polite introduction.

 

As they were walking back to his attendant’s store, it was clear how tense they were as a result of summoning him of all people.  His reputation clearly preceded him this time around. He’d be more careful next time.

But with the sight of his attendant being so spooked, he couldn’t help but tease.

 

“You appear… tense, Master Attendant,” he mused.  “Am I making you uncomfortable, perhaps?” He gave them that usual smile of his.  The calm, composed, and rehearsed smile that gave no indication of anything awry.

 

Their weary glance made him giddy.  How cute.

“…I had originally summoned for some additional help at my store.  It’s probably a waste of your talents to have you simply help me out with cooking and waiting on customers.”

He chuckled softly.  Was his attendant trying to be considerate for him?  How amusing.

 

That pretense of being a calm, gentle and dependable food soul would not work with them.  If they had the already existing notion of him being such a malicious, calculating and manipulative food soul, how would they react if he were to simply act otherwise?

And so this time, he decided to change things up.

“I will be of help to you in whatever way I can, Master Attendant.”  His more devious intent was masked by his smile of composure. “Please guide me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've reached the end!  
> Thank you for everyone who's read this and followed this so far!  
> I appreciate all the kudos, reads and comments that everyone's been giving this story!


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